


I'm Not Dancing

by ganjachan



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Clubbing, Dancing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexting, Shameless Smut, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vodka
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 00:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ganjachan/pseuds/ganjachan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock finds a new case to solve during a salsa party. John isn't that eager to go, but he does after all, which has some negative consequences which then turn into massively positive ones. Are they going to make it to the flat?</p><p>As this is a result of a plot bunny biting me, expect much crappiness and possible OOC-ness. And keep in mind that this is a slash story, which means two men having a go at it. And it's explicit, so you can imagine sex in every place possible in every configuration possible. Sorry, had to put all those plot bunnies somewhere.</p><p>Over 1500 views!!! Thank you SOO much :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Salsa Party 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Sherlock comes up with an idea to go to a salsa party, John isn't very eager. But will his unwillingness stop Sherlock?

“Salsa party, tonight”, John heard Sherlock call as he entered the flat. Then, he heard latino music and he knew already what Sherlock meant, but he still tried to refuse. It was their little ritual since they decided that they were more than friends.

“Yeah, good luck”, he replied, taking off his coat and heading towards the kitchen to make himself a sandwich and maybe tea.

“You're going too”.

“I'm not, not to a salsa party”.

“Yes, you are, because it's for a case”.

“Sure, for a case. Can you even dance salsa, by the way?”

“Not yet”, Sherlock replied, eyes focused on his laptop's screen. The latino music was coming from the speakers.

John helped himself to a slice of bread with ham and when the kettle boiled, he made two cups of tea. It had become his custom to make tea for Sherlock too whenever he made some for himself. “What do you mean, not yet?”

“Collecting data”.

John put the tea mugs on the table and seated himself on the armrest of the chair where Sherlock was sitting. He munched on his sandwich, staring at the screen. Sherlock was apparently watching an excerpt of an episode of “Dancing with the Stars” that included a very gay-looking guy dancing salsa with a girl who looked more manly than he did. The guy was wearing a black T-shirt and black tight-fit jeans on his skinny bottom.

“So you think you can learn it just by watching a TV show?”, John asked.

“The basics, yes”, Sherlock switched to another episode, featuring a different guy with a different girl. “I was hoping you could teach me more”.

John almost choked on the sandwich. “You're kidding me, right? I'm not-”

“You told me once that you used to attend latino dance lessons with one of these women of yours”, Sherlock muttered, still focused on the rapidly moving couple, obviously hurt by the fact that John didn't remember that he had told him that. There were more tabs open in the browser, including search results on typical salsa outfits and basic steps.

“That doesn't mean that I can dance”, John retorted, reaching for his mug, but before he could grab it, Sherlock caught hold of his elbow and looked at him with a hint of plea in his eyes. With a sigh, John realized that he had no choice. He simply couldn't resist Sherlock's version of puppy eyes. “Okay, I'll go with you, but don't make me dance”. Sherlock seemed satisfied with his reply, though John could see the dangerous gleam in his eyes.

 

***

 

“Oh no, John Watson, you're not going in these clothes”, Sherlock said when John entered the living room.

Sherlock apparently was in great mood. John couldn't say the same about himself. He had been hoping for an evening with telly and probably a beer or two, and now he would spend half of the night in some posh club with a mojito or a cuba libre in hand...

The only good thing about it was that Sherlock was there too, and when he finished the case, they would maybe have some fun together. Not necessarily involving salsa.

“What do you mean? It's my club wear”, John retorted, checking himself out in the mirror. He was wearing jeans and a blue shirt that he had thought Sherlock liked, and he wanted to take his black cardigan to complete the outfit in case it was cold outside at night.

Sherlock himself was wearing tight-fit black trousers (what was it? Definitely not cotton; and where the hell did he get them?) with a silk dark blue shirt and his hair was combed backwards. He looked, as always, professional, even though John dared to doubt his dancing abilities after only watching the videos, and even taller than he normally was, which was due to the fact that he was so lean. His hips looked particularly appetizing in this cut.

The detective grabbed John's shoulders and guided him into his own bedroom, where he extracted a tight black t-shirt from a pile of clothes on the bed.

John opened his mouth to speak, but Sherlock's gaze silenced him. He sighed with resignation and started unbuttoning his shirt.

He couldn't miss the way Sherlock's throat moved when he did it. He smirked and undid the rest of buttons very slowly, not looking at Sherlock until he was ready to take the shirt off. When he lifted his gaze, there was a hint of blush on Sherlock's cheekbones and his chest was rising and falling a bit quicker than just a moment ago. The cheekbones were much more prominent with his hair done the way it was.

Maybe the party wasn't that bad an idea after all. He put on the T-shirt, which smelled of Sherlock, but was apparently washed beforehand because it smelled also of their fabric softener. The material clung to his chest and John felt ridiculously homosexual, but the way Sherlock was following him with his gaze when he checked himself out in the mirror told him that at least his partner considered him to be sexy.  


	2. The Salsa Party 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course John's unwillingness isn't enough to stop Sherlock. 
> 
> The situation at the party becomes quite complicated, and Sherlock will have much to explain.

The club was dark and latino music was seeping from the speakers. John was standing at the bar, sipping his vodka with coke and trying to look as casual as possible, although he was feeling all the more strange with his hair spiked up with some gel. And the damned latino music. It was tiring to hear it encouraging you to dance all the time. Jazz was so much different; it made you calm. Or classical music. Even Sherlock's violin cacophonies were better than that.

As Sherlock had instructed him on their way to the club, until he told John otherwise, he could do whatever he wanted and Sherlock would take care of the rest. Apparently the case was very dull, as it included someone putting some kind of drug in the drinks of the party-goers, which of course had a very negative influence on the club, at least as far as John understood. As Sherlock really had nothing else to do, he could as well solve this.

Sherlock was already taking care of the case, talking quietly to the bartender a few meters away from John, so that he couldn't hear them. A few women cast seductive looks at John, and there was even one or two who started to chat with him, but apparently John was looking so gay they they didn't take any further interest in him.

And then the music became louder and louder until it boomed through the speakers along with the DJ's voice announcing that the party was about to begin, and Sherlock was still talking to the bartender. John didn't want to give Sherlock the satisfaction and start dancing, and he didn't even want to, so he simply looked at the people repeating the basic steps for warm-up. He felt the vodka from his drink slowly kicking in; it was pleasant.

And then, when the song changed, Sherlock flashed among the small crowd on the dance-floor. He was holding the hands of a woman dressed in a short red dress, looking her in the eyes and all smiles. With their knees slightly bent as it was customary for salsa, they seemed very focused on the steps. Sherlock's hips were moving so perfectly in sync with the music, and his shirt's topmost button somehow became undone. John licked his lips as his mouth became dry; the button deranged him, he wanted either to fasten it again or to unbutton the shirt completely and lay his hands on Sherlock's bare, perfect chest.

But John had to admit that he felt a pang of jealousy at the sight. He knew that even if he went and snatched Sherlock away from the girl, it would do no good – he would only make an idiot out of himself as he couldn't even dance as well as Sherlock or the girl could. He would act as a chaperon for his own partner. So he ordered another coke with vodka and just stared.

The music changed slightly and the girl's leg was between Sherlock's, their chests very close, almost touching, and Sherlock's hands on her back. John was sure his cheeks were flaming red. That was, in a way, hot. He imagined that he was the girl and the whole image made him feel familiar warmth down there. It did feel a bit sick, though; he definitely shouldn't be watching his partner almost cheat on him.

And then, the girl turned her back at Sherlock and started grinding her round ass against Sherlock's hips in a very luscious way, his hands immediately steadying themselves on her sides, stroking them up and down. She turned his head and smiled at him. His hair was a bit disheveled already.

John felt that his eyes start to sting. He had been trying to convince himself that Sherlock was doing that for a case, but now it seemed that he had been enjoying himself a bit too much. But before he could avert his gaze, Sherlock locked eyes with him and winked. Then his hand went lower down the girl's side, his lips close to her neck (John swallowed hard), his fingers working the girl's dress up and up until it revealed a narrow black garter with a pack of white pills attached to it.

When Sherlock snatched it away from the girl, who lost all of her luscious charm and tried to grasp it, John was sitting there with his mouth open, just staring, his drink all but forgotten.

Sherlock put the packet in his pocket and seized the girl by her wrists before the crowd became too interested. Two of three people turned just to see what was happening, but Sherlock explained to them that the girl felt a bit sick and he had to walk her out. The woman was staring at him with a visible intent to stab one of her high heels straight into his heart.

After a few minutes Sherlock returned, pleased with himself. The dull case was over, the police took the girl, who apparently was the owner of a rival club, but Sherlock still had something to explain.

John looked at him, expectantly. Sherlock grasped the drink from the bar and drank all of it in one big sip. “You shouldn't be drinking any more tonight, doctor Watson”, he said playfully, leaning closer to John, who backed off, looking away. Sherlock's body was warm after the dance and he smelled of the girl's perfume. “Are you mad at me for solving the case this way?”

John didn't answer, just pursed his lips. Sherlock backed off a bit, apparently confused.

“If you wanted to have a go at a girl, you could have spared me the sight”, John said finally, still not looking at his partner. “At least I wouldn't have to witness you almost cheating on me. Or was that another kind of bloody experiment?”

“I wasn't cheating”, Sherlock retorted with a more serious tone of voice. “There was no emotional connection”.

“She was grinding her ass against your cock, for fuck's sake!”, John exclaimed, finally turning towards Sherlock and making an attempt at standing up.

“That's what she did, not me”, Sherlock said, taking a seat next to John and seizing him by the shoulders, preventing him from bursting out of the club. When John showed no signs of protest he took hold of one of his hands. “I didn't want you to feel hurt, and I didn't know that it would turn out that way”, the detective said, examining John's fingers, which he held close to his face.

“At least look me in the eyes when you say such things”, John said in a low voice, knowing that it was the closest to apology that he could hope for in Sherlock's case.

Grey eyes fixed themselves on his, and he knew at once that he had no reason to be angry. He had known Sherlock for such a long time that he, unlike many other people, could tell when the man was lying. Club lights were illuminating Sherlock's face in different colours.

“Does it help you to know that when I was touching her, I was thinking of you the whole time?”, Sherlock asked, caressing John's knuckles with his thumb. “And besides, I made her lose all her suspicions first and then finish it as quickly as possible, not allowing for any kind of reckless behaviour”.

John sighed and half-smiled. Sherlock had everything calculated, as always.

“I wouldn't forgive myself if I hurt you in that way”, the detective added quietly. John leaned in and placed his head on Sherlock's shoulder. He could still smell the girl's perfume on Sherlock's shirt, but that didn't matter as it would soon be replaced with his own scent.

“How did you know it was her?”, he asked.

“Oh, it was simple”, Sherlock replied, unable to resist the urge to boast about his abilities. He lifted his hand and stroking John's hair gently. “I observed the people in here and she was the only one who was choosing the ones she would talk to on the basis of whether they had a drink or not- can I tell you that afterwards?”

That was unusual. John raised his head. He was starting to feel cozy.

“Why? Why not now?”

“I'd like to dance a bit more before you fall asleep in here”, Sherlock said, slipping off the barstool and pulling John lightly by the hands.

“I told you I don't dance”, John retorted, trying as he might to stay at his place.

“Oh come on, I will lead”, Sherlock didn't give up and before John could realize what was happening, he was in the middle of the dance-floor, remembering the basic salsa step. It was borderline impossible for Sherlock to lead him that well after just watching the videos, but apparently Sherlock was even more brilliant than he had thought.

Sherlock made him do several turns, then placed his hands on John's shoulders and massaged gently, not breaking the movement.

“You have to relax”, he said, leaning in closer to John and tickling his ear with his breath. John felt a shudder go down his body, and took several deep breaths to ease the tension in his back. When he did, Sherlock placed his hands on his hips and guided them to a rhythm that was at the same time luscious and comfortable. John's hands snaked up his partner's chest to rest on his shoulders. Their bodies started moving together in a fluid motion, Sherlock's chest and stomach flexing under the silk fabric of his shirt, and his hands so warm on John's body.

If John had been hard earlier, then now he thought he would die if he didn't do something about it.

The realization itself made him grind his hips several times against Sherlock's thigh, yearning for some friction. They were very close by then, as close and Sherlock and the girl had been, and John put one of his hands on Sherlock's nape and the other one on his shoulder to steady himself as his neck was assaulted with a series of small kisses. He lifted his leg and hooked it against the back of Sherlock's thigh, craving more touch, more pressing of bodies against each other...

Sherlock pressed him against the wall and kissed him. It felt so good, the hard wall against his back and ass, the lips pressing against his own, and the light sheen of sweat on Sherlock's cheeks that tasted a little bit salty.

“Should we change the scenery a bit?”, Sherlock whispered into his ear just in the moment when the music became quiet enough for John to hear him. His voice was even darker than it was earlier.

“Oh yes, please”, John breathed out, desperate to ease the tightness in his pants.  


	3. The Salsa Party 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a result of their actions, Sherlock might want to change his shirt.

Sherlock flung upen a door to their left and literally dragged John inside. It was a toilet, and after the darkness of the club, the lights there seemed to be way too bright. John's head hurt.

“Don't you think that someone might walk in on us?”, he asked, his eyes closed, not letting go of Sherlock as the taller man dragged him into one of the cubicles and shut the creaking door behind them.

“Isn't it more exciting that way?”, Sherlock pushed John against the cubicle wall and pressed their bodies together, rubbing one of his gorgeous thighs against his groin. John stiffled a moan and his hands clasped Sherlock's ass which had been moving in such a suggestive and sensual way back there on the dancefloor. John wanted to feel the moves.

Sherlock's hand snaked down to cup John's erection through his trousers and pants, and John bit on Sherlock's neck. Then there was no more Sherlock against his chest as the detective knelt in front of him, unzipped his trousers and extracted John's cock from under the pants. John gasped at the touch and tried to catch hold of anything, feeling that he was already so close that he would soon trip over the edge. And Sherlock was teasing him, weighing him in his hand, stroking John's thighs and stomach, but never stimulating his cock.

John had nurtured a fantasy about them doing it in a public place, but he wasn't sure it would happen at all, that was what all fantasies are like. And now it did and he wanted it to continue so bad, and it to be quick and hot so that he wouldn't be embarrassed if anyone heard them going at it.

All coherent thought soared beyond the reach of his mind when Sherlock took him in his mouth and sucked hard. He pumped him with his hand too and it definitely was as hot as John had wanted. Sherlock did excellent blowjobs, ones that literally blew John's mind, and John was sure that he had learned it from videos on RedTube, having no experience, but he didn't mind at that moment, not at all.

He buried his fingers in Sherlock's hair and bucked his hips against the warm and welcoming realm that was Sherlock's mouth. When he looked down, he saw his cock disappear between Sherlock's reddened lips, and he was so turned on already that it was almost enough to make him come, but before it happened and before John could protest, Sherlock leaned back and finished John off with his hand. White stripes of semen splashed against his face, neck and shirt.

John was standing there, breathless, staring at the gorgeous sight of Sherlock slowly licking one of his fingers clean, looking him in the eye. Then John put his cock back in place with trembling hands, crouched in front of the detective and licked several drops of semen that had landed on Sherlock's forehead. Then he pressed a long kiss against that place.

“That was incredible”, he whispered, bending to lick another portion of his own seed from his partner's face. It tasted a bit of the vodka he had drunk earlier, which felt a bit odd on his tongue, but he knew that Sherlock didn't swallow for a different reason. Somehow, the detective was really turned on when John came onto his face, and John didn't complain.

Sherlock's face was flushed, his lips red, eyes bright and hair curling back into its everyday position from the elaborate hairdo he had managed to force them into earlier that day.

“I think I might need to change my shirt”, the detective said, wiping a stripe of the seed from the front of his shirt with his hand. John kissed him, feeling a gleeful laugh make its way up his throat. “And we should go already”, Sherlock added between kisses, “or your fear of someone finding us like that will become a reality”.

“This”, John licked another drop of semen from Sherlock's jaw, “would make it all the more difficult. Care to finish what we started at home?”

As a reply, Sherlock bit his earlobe playfully. After all, the evening turned out exceptionally nice, even the dancing was bearable, and it wasn't the end of it yet. As they stumbled together out of the cubicle, another man came in and eyed them questioningly. John beamed at him, not caring much about what anyone thought anymore.  


	4. The Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever been so turned on that you didn't even make it to the flat?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a friend of mine was rather more enthusiastic about this piece than Tricks of the Mind, so I somehow ended up writing another chapter. Here comes smex (like, real smex, not just fiddling around with various body parts), which means two guys having a go at it. If you're unsure about male anatomy and/or what gay sex is about, please consult Wikipedia and see whether you can deal with it. 
> 
> Anyway, it turned out I'm just an attention seeker. And should definitely write my M.A. thesis instead of gay porn. Oh, well.

They didn't even make it to the flat.

When they went out of the club, Sherlock couldn't get a cab, as it was a Friday night and everything was taken, and it was him who suggested with a smug smirk that they go through the park and try their luck on the bus stop on the other side of it, as if he knew what would happen then. On second thoughts, he probably did know, as he himself initiated it.

John was already sated, so he didn't protest too much against the walk. It was a warm night, the alcohol he had drunk was running pleasantly in his veins and he had just been given a blowjob, so what could be better than a walk in the park?

Well, obviously, there _were_ better things. Like taking Sherlock's cock in his mouth and making him moan his name when he came. Or letting Sherlock top and fuck John senseless into the bed. Or even giving Sherlock a quick handjob, with the taller man panting into John's neck as John worked him with his hand. God, he missed Sherlock's cock already, but they weren't doing any of these in the _park_ , were they?

They were strolling lazily across the park paths, the lanterns illuminating their way. The city was just a distant hum somewhere far, far away; there were quite a few people in the park, mostly snogging on benches or on the grass. John wondered for a moment whether Sherlock would let him snog him like that, and he even turned to ask him, but that was when Sherlock grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him into a passionate kiss.

Well, talk of like-mindedness. John flung his arms around Sherlock's middle and pulled him closer. John could still taste a bit of his come on Sherlock's tongue, which was finding its way to John's throat, and somehow it was quite erotic. Sherlock groaned and bucked his hips against John's, and if John had thought that maybe Sherlock lost interest in what could be in store for tonight, he was definitely mistaken. He let one of his hands slide down to Sherlock's perfect arse, which he squeezed a bit; fuck, these trousers really were tight...

Sherlock gasped when John palmed and massaged his erection through the thin layer of material. He produced a shaky sigh, and John didn't have to guess how much he needed this.

“What now?”, he asked, and somehow Sherlock's smirk sent a shiver down his spine. There were still smears of dried-up come on his shirt, even though he made sure his jacket covered most of them. It was as if John had marked him, in a way. 

“Come on”, the detective murmured and led John by the hand towards a small, dense copse of trees and bushes that was a little way from the path. John cursed whatever higher power it was who gave Sherlock the ability to read other people's minds.

“Where- Oh God, you're not seriously...”

“Oh yes, I am seriously”, Sherlock rasped when they were between the trees, and again kissed John, their lips already swollen and wet from the previous kiss, sliding perfectly, and John couldn't help his hands grab the shirt on Sherlock's chest, but soon he backed off a bit, letting Sherlock move to mouth and bite on his neck.

“Sherlock, what if someone sees us?”, John whispered, pulling the taller man closer despite his worries. It felt too good to let go.

“It's seriously dark in here, John, trust me”, Sherlock replied between kisses, leading John deeper between the shrubbery. He was already unbuttoning John's trousers, all the time grinding against whatever part of John was available. It really was very dark in there, and John could only rely on his touch and hearing.

“And what if someone hears us?”, John whispered with almost a moan when Sherlock shoved his trousers along with his pants down to his knees.

“Now, that's something each of us must take care of himself, m?”, Sherlock replied, taking his jacket off and hanging it somewhere he could see it. But he wasn't able to leave John for too long a time and soon he was embracing him again, this time fighting with his own trousers with the one hand that wasn't kneading John's arse. John was hard again, his dick rubbing against Sherlock's hipbone as he was grinding against him. They were both panting already, biting back grunts and moans and whimpers which were all the more tempting this way.

God, that was something new, having sex in the park, in a dark copse, where anyone could see or hear them, but it was so arousing that John soon forgot about his doubts. They had done worse things in their career and this time Sherlock definitely wanted to explore the possibilities, with the accomplishment of a case solved still fueling his euphoria.

John helped Sherlock get his trousers down and, wanting to shove his pants down as well, discovered that he wasn't wearing any underwear. His penis was definitely very happy about the freedom and jumped, all ready, to John's hand. It was wet with sweat and John glided his hand over the head, smearing precum around as Sherlock was doing some acrobatic act, trying at the same time to get as much friction as possible, and to get something out of the pocket of his jacket.

John realized what it was when Sherlock turned all his attention back to him, embracing him tightly, and lubed fingers were pressed against the cleft between his buttocks. He gasped at the cold sensation and at the thought that Sherlock really wanted to _take him_ there, in the park. His knees went weak and he buried his face in Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock turned him around without further ado. John leaned a bit forward, steadying himself against a tree that he hoped was strong enough, and spread his legs as Sherlock's finger entered his body and was soon joined by another one, and then yet another one to make sure John was well-prepared. The slick sounds were sending shivers of pleasure straight to John's groin, and Sherlock didn't waste any time; John could tell he wanted it bad by his ragged breathing, and soon the fingers were removed, there was a bit of rustling behind John as Sherlock was putting on a condom, and soon John was filled with Sherlock's glorious cock, sliding marvelously into him. John could barely suppress a moan and bit on his hand to prevent it from coming out.

Sherlock was panting behind him, rubbing circles on his back, going very slow at first to let John adjust, but soon he groaned, unable to take it anymore, grabbed John's hips with enough force to leave bruises and thrust into him roughly just there, impaling John onto his impatient cock. John was breathless, sweat was coming down his forehead, and he was definitely close to orgasm, though not as close as Sherlock, at least as far as John could tell by his suppressed whimpers.

Sherlock's hand reached around and started working John's cock in time with his thrusts, which in a short while blinded John with pleasure, and then he remembered that they were in a _fucking park_ , and that sent him over the edge. He could feel Sherlock thrust into him one last time before he too came, still clutching John's hips with one hand, riding out his orgasm.

John leaned against the tree he was holding as his head swirled. That was intense. Sherlock was holding him from behind, his latex-clad cock pressing against John's cleft and burning hole. He placed a kiss on John's nape. John turned slowly, paying attention to branches that were suddenly everywhere around (how could he not see them earlier?) and kissed Sherlock, pushing some sweaty locks of hair away from his eyes.

When they caught their breaths, they dressed quickly and made sure that no one saw them walking casually out of the copse. Their faces were still flushed, hair still tousled and clothes a bit crumpled, but no one seemed to pay particular attention to them as they returned to the path.

“And _that_ was awesome”, John said in a low voice so that no one could hear them, knowing he would have something to fuel his wanking for at least a month, until Sherlock discovers another fantasy of his. “You were so... wild! God, I never even thought you could!”

“Might have been the whole latino dance thing we did earlier; rather arousing, I have to admit”, Sherlock dismissed the compliment with a wave of his hand.

“The adrenaline had its impact as well, hm? You know, public places?”, John asked with a smirk. Sherlock smiled, looking at him with that mischievous gleam in the eye.

“Yes, although don't get the wrong impression; it _can't_ be a substitute for cases”.

“I wasn't talking about a substitute”, John said. “I was talking about a pleasant addition, a cherry on top, if you prefer”.

“Oh, you reminded me”, Sherlock said, his expression suddenly changing from a beautiful post-coital glow into a frown. “I was hungry. Do you think we could get a takeaway at this hour?”


	5. The Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days later, John can't stop thinking about the new experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As part of celebrations for this fic reaching 500 views, another chapter of JohnLock sex is on! I hope I didn't make any mistakes (please tell me if I did) :) Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> Shameless advertising - this fic is a result of plot bunnies which I couldn't follow in my Tricks of the Mind series, which is in my opinion a lot better than this shitty piece of PWP ;)

 John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The memory from a few days ago was still vivid in his mind, and he could get back to it at any given moment, but he seriously didn't mean to think about the hot, spontaneous park sex _at work_. At the clinic. Sherlock wasn't even there, for God's sake, and there was literally _nothing_ to inspire him to recall their public sex adventure.

And yet his mind returned to it again. He remembered how sweet it was to hear Sherlock making almost inaudible sounds when he entered him from behind, his hands clutching onto his hips as if his existence depended on it... He thrust into him so desperately that John felt his ass burning even the following morning. Well, no wonder – Sherlock had to be very impatient by the time they decided to walk through the park, but John knew and liked to remember that it wasn't only the need for release; it was also a proof of how much John affected him, and how much Sherlock needed John in his life, and in his bed.

Oh, god. Bed. He would give up so much to be in bed with Sherlock at that moment. Not necessarily sleeping, and anyway there was simply no chance of going to sleep straight away if they were both in the same bed, and John wouldn't mind showing himself grateful for that night full of wonders that started in a very non-exciting way at a salsa party... but ended better than he could have imagined.

He sighed and the breath came out more shaky than he had expected. Well, if he didn't do anything about the way his trousers seemed to be too tight, he would surely explode. And this moment was his only chance – the patient he was supposed to examine in five minutes had canceled the visit, so John could take a break, lock himself in the toilet adjacent to his small office and jerk off. That was his only option if he wanted to survive the rest of the day.

His mobile buzzed annoyingly at the precise moment and he thought of ignoring it at first, but decided to check it anyway, and was pleasantly surprised.

_Thinking of me? - SH_

He smiled at the small screen. Sherlock always knew what was up, and this time John could use it to his own advantage. He stood up, locked the door and went to the minuscule toilet that was just next to his office – it was the wisest choice, because the room, however tiny, was more or less soundproof, so there wouldn't be any awkwardness even if an accidental whimper or a moan escaped his lips. John wasn't particularly vocal when it came to sex, he usually only grunted and groaned, sometimes did some dirty talk if he felt like it, but Sherlock... God, Sherlock was talkative.

John unzipped his trousers and freed his swollen cock, which twitched at the sudden contact with the chilly air. He typed the response quickly.

_Yeah, of the sounds you emit when your mouth is not busy with my cock._

He groaned when his fingers traced the sensitive vein at the underside of his cock. He could almost hear Sherlock teasing him with the words; he imagined that it was Sherlock's hand playing with his penis and not his own; add to this Sherlock's lips on John's neck, and his other hand pinning John's wrists above his head so that he was at Sherlock's mercy...

The phone buzzed again.

_Hope I get to emit some tonight; though it's hard to choose between screaming your name and sucking your marvelous cock – SH_

John shivered at the statement, recalling the scene from the club, when Sherlock sucked him off in the toilet, as if they were some fucking teenagers or something... God, he was so close already. He was trying to text and stroke his cock rhythmically at the same time, imagining Sherlock muttering the words he texted into his ear. With the low, long vowels and the tiny pause before the breathy “k” in “cock”. The thought fueled his arousal even more and he could feel the familiar heat spread in his abdomen. He relaxed.

_Which would you choose tonight?_

_I think I would give myself in to your ministrations this time – SH_

_What would you like me to do to you?_

_Fuck me, John – SH_

As the words resounded in John's head, he managed to type the last text before he had to take care of his climax. That was quick.

_Ok. Coming._

He needed only a few strokes more to come hard and sweet, biting his lower lip until it almost bled, his heart beating furiously and his knees going weak. By some miracle he had grabbed a tissue from the box on the sink so that he didn't have to clean up the mess. The orgasm washed through him in blissful waves until he was completely spent.

He waited until his breathing returned to normal and the flush disappeared from his cheeks. He tucked himself back in and washed his hands and face in the sink. He had never before come so quick while wanking, and it was all because of Sherlock. His own beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, brilliant detective. Who wanted John to fuck him tonight until he was screaming his name against the pillow. Or maybe not. John could fuck him against the counter in the kitchen, provided that all potentially harmful substances were moved away. Or on the couch in the living room. Or on the armchair. They would be so close to each other, chest to chest, and could snog a lot and have lazy, sensual sex that deserved the name of love-making...

John grinned to himself at the thought. They didn't say it aloud, but it was definitely what it is. Love. With lots of rough, awesome sex.

_If you only knew what you do to me._

_Oh, I know perfectly well what I do to you. Might need a new bottle of lubricant though – SH_

_Oh god you didn't._

_I'm afraid I did – SH_

_Go buy your own lubricant, it's you who's being fucked tonight._

_Might change my mind. 7 ideas so far – SH_

_Wanna share?_

_No. Prepare for a surprise – SH_


	6. The At-Home Date 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock had read too much chicklit, but, being himself, he can make the most out of it in a spectacular way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadam, I wrote a chapter. I'm having a bit of a break from Something That You Need - I already have several yet unpublished chapters written, but the whole series is being beta-ed, so stay tuned - I promise I won't abandon it!
> 
> As for now, have another chapter of porn. Comments make my life worth living, so please make it so ;) Also, this was unbeta-ed and just re-read by me myself, so if there are any mistakes, let me know.

 That was definitely a surprise. John stood in the doorway, feeling his eyebrows rise up his forehead.

There were flower petals on the floor, leading to the coffee table, on which there was a glass of red wine. The flat was dark, there was no sign of Sherlock and John was getting more and more puzzled with every passing second.

Rose petals and wine. It seemed so cliché that it was hard to believe that Sherlock would pull off something of that kind. John circled the table, searching for anything that would tell him what the fuck had happened to Sherlock that he suddenly started taking inspiration from trashy chicklit.

Actually, the idea of Sherlock trying to read this kind of literature was quite funny in itself, and John smirked at the image of Sherlock's brain overheating in an attempt to decipher the shit out of such a book, which he then would probably throw out of the window in frustration.

All of a sudden, his phone buzzed.

_Drink the wine. Will be there in a minute – SH_

John grinned at the phone and obediently lifted the glass. He preferred beer, to be honest, but he could use just any drink to unwind a bit after the tiring day. The wine was rich in colour and tasted good, though it was a bit heavy. After a few sips, John could feel his tense muscles relax and his mind become slightly fuzzy with thoughts of what would probably happen when Sherlock came back home. His initial plan of teasing Sherlock about the chicklit inspirations gave way to thoughts of passionate lovemaking that they would indulge in the moment the detective made his appearance.

Just as he was tilting the glass to get the last drops of wine into his mouth, the phone buzzed again.

_Takes longer than initially suspected. Take off your shirt – SH_

John eyed the room warily for hidden cameras, but of course the catch about hidden cameras was that they were hidden, so he obviously couldn't see them. But how could anything go wrong? Even if there was a camera, there were only two possibilities – either Sherlock was watching, which sent a shiver of anticipation down John's spine (what if he just started masturbating there and then, and Sherlock would watch and do just the same...?), or it was Mycroft, which would only be his fault if his eyes were burned out by watching what was happening in the living room at 221B Baker Street.

So John started unbuttoning his shirt. As he popped the last button open, he ran a hand down his chest, stopping to stroke at the patch of hair between his navel and the waistband of his jeans. He liked how it felt, and how his quickened pulse sounded in his ears.

_Take off your trousers – SH_

_Come take them off yourself,_ John texted back, but nevertheless his hand undid the zipper on its own, stopping there to massage the bulge underneath lightly.

_Patience, John. Take them off - SH_

John sighed and popped the button over the zipper. He let his trousers fall to the floor and pool around his ankles. He stepped out of them, but left his white classic briefs on, waiting for instructions that would follow. After a minute of waiting, there was no text from Sherlock.

Another minute passed. Still no text. John started to feel stupid. He sat down on the couch.

And he had already been imagining Sherlock entering the flat, his face lighting up and his eyes darkening, taking in the sight of John undressing. John never thought his body was the nicest to look at (he preferred to think that he had other appealing assets), but apparently he turned Sherlock on, which was quite spectacular in itself, taking into consideration that Sherlock very rarely showed genuine interest in any human being, other than John, of course.

And God, that interest was expressed in an extremely pleasing way. Just thinking of it made John's penis twitch under his pants.

Well, there was still no text. John adjusted his blatant erection, but it didn't make it any more comfortable; the additional friction only made it worse, considering that there was not much John could do if he were to wait for Sherlock. He sighed in exasperation and tried to think of something not connected with sex, but it didn't help; his mind was returning to the impressive stack of imagined scenarios for the nearest future, and John gave up, shoved his hand inside his pants, and cupped the hot, pulsing flesh. The sensation was blissful; he stroked his length slowly, trying not to get too close to climax; after all, he still hoped that Sherlock would come home at one point and, quite literally, give him a hand.

John imagined Sherlock's slender hand working his cock, caressing the head, which was already slick with precome; Sherlock would whisper dirty words into his ear, telling him exactly what he wanted to do to him; and his other hand would caress John's nipples, his neck and nape, sending shivers down John's spine...

“I see you've started without me.”

John's eyes snapped open; he hadn't even noticed he had closed them.

Sherlock was there, closing the door behind him. He was smiling slyly; was it John's imagination, or was it a signal that it had gone exactly in accordance with some mischievous sex-plan that Sherlock had conceived earlier?

“You tease,” John said with a chuckle, withdrawing his hand. “You turned me on and left me there without instructions, what was I supposed to do?”

Sherlock took his coat off and hanged it, not even trying to hurry, while John was just sitting there with a very prominent bulge that threatened to rip through the cotton fabric. The detective gave him an awkward peck on the cheek and went straight to the bathroom.

John could hear him turn the bathtub tap on. He frowned. Did Sherlock want to take a bath and just leave him there with a very prominent erection? Was he really such a bastard?

But, fortunately for John, Sherlock returned after a short while, stark naked.

John took in the mouthwatering sight. He was never tired of looking at this gorgeous body, which Sherlock dismissed as “transport” and which John wanted to touch, to knead, to grasp, to lick, to kiss, to savour, to breathe in, to bite, and at that precise moment to fuck as if there was no tomorrow.

Sherlock approached him, straddled his lap and gave him a long, sensual kiss. John melted into it. It was more than good, and he grasped Sherlock's hips, grinding his still-clothed erection against his cock, which twitched at the contact.

Sherlock broke the kiss, took John's hand and looked him in the eye.

“I missed you,” he said.

John couldn't help bursting out in laughter at that statement. Sherlock frowned at him.

“Tell me, when did you start reading romantic comedy?” John asked, stroking Sherlock's hipbones with his thumbs.

Sherlock's frown deepened and he looked away.

“Before you scold me, I do realize that they're not accurate descriptions of human interaction,” he said, a blush appearing on his cheeks. “However, people seem to like them, so I treat them as a valuable source of ideas for our time together.”

John chuckled and kissed Sherlock's collarbone. Sherlock could be impossibly sweet when we wanted to please John. Sometimes John envied his creativity in the matter; in the old times, all the women would be his if he only could be as romantic as Sherlock sometimes was.

“I like it”, he said simply, making Sherlock look him back in the eye.

Sherlock smiled proudly. “That's good, because there's more in the bathroom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cliffhanger. Oooooh, yeah.


	7. The At-Home Date 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Besides a make-out session on the couch, what is another classic idea for an at-home date? That's right. Taking a bath together.

 It was quite endearing how Sherlock, instead of wallowing in his boredom or shooting at a wall, made use of his great mind to prepare such a surprise for John in the absence of a juicy murder to solve. He told John to take his pants off while he prepared the other “things”, and John heard him start music, probably on his phone; it was some realxing tune from a pleasant-sounding rock band and John liked it. As John jumped obediently out of his pants, trying not to trip over them, he shivered with anticipation as his raging hard-on met with cold air, demanding a bit of attention. The bathroom was almost pitch black; Sherlock had turned the electric lights off, leaving only a few candles burning on a special stand on the sink.

God, _candles_. If that didn't scream cliché, John didn't know what did.

He looked around. The usually cluttered bathroom shelf was cleaned up, and there was a little bowl of stwarberries and bits of pineapple sitting on it. On the towel rack, instead of John's old green towel, there were two spa-style towel-bathrobes. And Sherlock was standing there, naked and looking a bit sheepish, holding a bottle of green liquid that John identified as bubble bath gel.

John gaped at Sherlock. Sherlock shrugged. “I told you it would be a surprise.”

“Yes, but... why all that?” John asked with a chuckle, as Sherlock turned on the tap in order to fill the bath, and poured some of the green liquid into it. It smelled of cedar wood, which was as masculine as a bubble bath can be.

Sherlock's pale skin was glistening in the candlelight as he sat on the edge of the tub.

“Don't you like it?” he asked, not looking John in the eye and pretending to be fumbling with the taps. John sometimes forgot that their bathtub-shower actually had the bathtub function. He smiled and approached Sherlock, putting one hand on his nape and pulling him lightly against his chest. Sherlock's hands slid around his waist, and he looked upwards, at John's face.

“I didn't say I don't like it,” John said in a low voice, stroking Sherlock's hair. “It's just... a bit different from what we usually do. You know, the usual hurried, hot, rough sex, like that one time in the park,” he smiled at the memory and Sherlock chuckled.

“I did research,” Sherlock said and John could tell from his tone that he was proud of himself. “I studied the most romantic ideas for a date, and decided on a few that I deduced you would like, so it would be a shame if you didn't like it. And I acutally had fun preparing it all, though you might want to wait until we move to the next point on my list.”

John grinned and kissed Sherlock's forehead. “And what might it be?” he asked, although he knew the answer already. “I suppose it's not slow, sensual sex that would show us both the depth of our affection towards each other?”

“Well, I wouldn't put it that way, but yes, it will be... sensual,” Sherlock retorted with a smirk, turning the tap off and sliding into the tub, motioning for John to join him.

When John was placed securely with his back against Sherlock's chest, he could feel his shoulders muscles relax already. Sherlock was embracing him from behind and John could feel the familiar length against his backside. He shifted slightly and was rewarded with a twitch. He could as well just rub his ass against it until Sherlock could take it no more and just impaled him on his cock, but if the sex afterwards was to be sensual, he could as well prolong the foreplay.

Sherlock responded extremely quickly to any stimuli that John would present him with. It was enough for John to start undressing, or to look Sherlock in the eye for a few seconds longer than expected, or to “accidentaly” brush his hand against Sherlock's ass when passing next to him, and Sherlock went hard. If they were home alone, he would just take John there and then, unable to stand the passion that distracted him from the task at hand. When they were around people, Sherlock would excuse himself and have a quick wank in the bathroom (John learned to distinguish the soft gasp that escaped Sherlock's lips when he came that way). But sometimes John would tease Sherlock, knowing that he was trying his hardest not to show any signs of arousal (and Sherlock was a master at it, as well as at feigning arousal; although if he ever tried to fake his reactions with John, the doctor would be very disappointed and probably prove his disappointment by provoking genuine reactions of the kind until Sherlock was begging him for mercy).

One of Sherlock's arms disappeared from John's middle and soon his hand returned with a piece of pineapple that he pressed against John's lips. John licked at the treat and took it into his mouth, making sure to suck at Sherlock's fingers properly in the act. Sherlock gasped; John smirked.

The song changed into something a bit slower and more romantic. John was pretty sure that the songs were put in a certain order that would go along with the state of their arousal. But somehow he didn't mind; at last he wasn't the one who had to organise everything when on a stay-home date.

This time, a strawberry appeared in front of John's mouth. He leaned foreward a bit to catch it between his teeth, but Sherlock made a wide gesture with the hand, almost sending John face-first into the water, and placed the ripe red fruit between his own lips as John turned to scowl at him.

The scowl soon turned into a grin as John first devoured the strawberry sitting between Sherlock's lips with his eyes, taking in the perfect shape of Sherlock's mouth against it, and the rich red colour that contrasted so vividly with his pale skin. Sherlock's eyes went hazy under John's provocative gaze, and John leaned in slowly and kissed the detective, biting off a piece of the fruit, but unable to break the kiss just then. He licked all the remaining droplets of the sweet-sour juice from Sherlock's lips, and his tongue followed the half of the strawberry that disappeared in Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock whimpered against his lips as John moved over to straddle him as much as it was possible in the narrow tub. When their cocks touched, John groaned at the shiver than went all over his body.

The music became more rhythmic, and Sherlock's hands were on John's ass, stilling his hips. His breathing was ragged; eyes dark with passion, glimmering in the candlelight; and cheeks flushed, although John found it hard to tell whether it was because of their kissing or because of the water being rather warm.

“It is believed that delaying the orgasm makes it stronger,” Sherlock said in a hoarse voice. He cleared his throat and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. John grinned, feeling totally in control of Sherlock's reactions. He reached for another piece of pineapple and put it in Sherlock's mouth.

“Don't tell me that you chose the pineapple because it makes sperm taste better,” he said, half-jokingly, helping himself to another piece of the said fruit. When Sherlock rolled his eyes, John knew that he was right, but couldn't resist mocking him a bit more. “So you don't like how my sperm tastes?” he said with mock-reproach, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting.

“I love the way your sperm tastes and was looking for ways to make it taste even better,” Sherlock corrected him, this time putting a small ripe strawberry in John's mouth.

“Sorry, didn't quite catch the first part?” John said, having pulled the strawberry in with his tongue.

“I love the way your sperm tastes,” Sherlock repeated, feigning ignorance of the fact that John was mocking him.

“Pardon?”

Sherlock leaned in and whispered into John's ear, in a low rumble, “I love it when you come in my mouth.”

John's mouth went dry at that and he felt pleasure building in his abdomen. He chuckled.

“Oh, let's just get out of this ridiculous tub and fuck,” he said, trying to stand up, but Sherlock held him in place.

“Patience, John,” he said and kissed him on the lips. He still tasted of the pineapple.

There were still a few fruits in the bowl, and they fed them to each other, exploring each other's mouths with greedy tongues, made fine use of lips and teeth on each other's necks, and soon they were both panting again, the desire hanging thick in the air.

Slowly, they went out of the bathtub, dripping water onto the floor. Sherlock took one of the fluffy bathrobes from the hanger and held it out to John, who eagerly put his arms in the sleeves, marvelling at how soft the fabric was against his skin. Sherlock put on the other one and showed John to the adjacent bedroom.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadam, another cliffhanger. Hope you liked it ;)


End file.
